


the wilder sun

by marigoldtears



Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I am so sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, everyone is queer this fic just doesn't address it, season 2 finale divergence, there's cibtic if you squint super hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:56:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marigoldtears/pseuds/marigoldtears
Summary: Cib (6:54): hey man, do you know when you’ll be here? everyone’s starting to show upSteven (6:56): Soon, just had to stop by the office to pick up some things.Cib (6:57): alyssa said you were getting drinks??Cib (7:01): steve?Steven (7:13): Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.Cib (7:14): dude, what. should I tell alyssa to call you?Cib (7:29): steven what the fuckCib (7:42): are you okay?





	the wilder sun

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this fic follows the cannon sp7 universe through "The good, the bad and the idiot" and diverges at the Christmas party. please read the tags and make sure you're comfortable with the content of this fic before reading! 
> 
> the title comes from the song "The Wilder Sun" by John Hopkins, which I legitimately listened to on loop the entire time I wrote this, so if you'd like to set a Mood, go ahead and listen to that.
> 
> enjoy! ps I live for constructive criticism so just Fuck me Up if you want!!

Cib didn’t think he’d felt more unsettled in his life. 

That was saying something, considering one of his best friends, who he had killed, came back from the dead less than a month ago. Suffice to say, Cib had seen some weird shit, but for some reason, in that moment he felt disturbed in a way he couldn’t explain.

The company’s holiday party was in full swing, Christmas music adding a layer of background noise to an already loud apartment. The living room was softly lit with strings of lights and dimmed lamps. Red solo cups were in everyone’s hands where they talked in threes and fours. 

Cib was standing alone. He was leaning against the wall in the hallway leading to Steven and Alyssa’s office, one foot propped up, toes of one shoe resting on the other. The room that was meant to be his was just a few steps away behind a closed door.

Taking a sip from his cup of Sprite (he wasn’t in the mood to drink alcohol, stomach churning in a way that made him feel ill), Cib glanced around the room. All of the people he considered real friends were there, talking and laughing. He made eye contact with Mimi for a quick moment, who smiled at him gently, waving with one hand, the other wrapped around her boyfriend’s waist. Cib’s lips twitched upward in response as he looked away. He was sure that the almost-smile seemed too tight on his face. All of his friends were here, so why did he feel so… wrong?

Well, all of them, except Steven.

Cib took his phone out of his pocket. It was open on his text messages with Steven, unchanged from when he had last checked two minutes ago. 

Cib (6:54): hey man, do you know when you’ll be here? everyone’s starting to show up

Steven (6:56): Soon, just had to stop by the office to pick up some things.

Cib (6:57): alyssa said you were getting drinks??

Cib (7:01): steve?

Steven (7:13): Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.

Cib (7:14): dude, what. should I tell alyssa to call you?

Cib (7:29): steven what the fuck

Cib (7:42): are you okay?

Cib read over the messages once more before putting his phone back in his pocket. It was 7:59 at night now, and it was safe to say that Cib was concerned. He had left several messages on Steven’s voicemail (“Hey, we miss you, please hurry back. I miss you.”). Everytime Cib had called, instead of the telltale ringing that meant the person on the other line hadn’t picked up, the sound was cut short after just one dial tone.

Steven was declining his calls.

Biting his lip, Cib looked out once more at his friends. He didn’t want to worry them. After all, nothing Steven said was actually any cause for alarm, right? Besides the fact that for some reason he told Alyssa he was going one place, and told Cib somewhere else, nothing was really out of the ordinary. Right?

Cib huffed out a breath, taking another swig of his soda. Sure, Steven hadn’t outwardly done anything that should make him nervous, but Cib had a bad feeling he couldn't shake. 

For one, he and Steven never fought, not even when they were living together years ago. The closest they had ever come was when Steven thought that Cib had been eating his chips every night (Cib had been. He bought Steven more chips. The situation resolved itself pretty easily). So for them to fight in front of James and Naeem, while recording a video? That was a big fucking deal.

And besides that, when Steven called him last night, when he and James were at the bar, something was… off, about his voice. It was hard to hear him over the steady rush of traffic behind him, but here was a certain waver to Steven’s voice that made Cib’s heart burn in his chest. 

Steven had asked about if they were still going to record videos together. His voice had cracked in places it normally stood firm when he said, “You aren’t actually quitting, right?” 

Steven had sounded as though he thought that Cib would never want to talk to him again. 

As much as Cib was angry at his friend, angry that the person who was supposed to understand him didn’t seem to in the slightest, Cib couldn’t help but reassure him. Yes, everything was fine, they could figure out where the plot would go, it’s all good dude. Don’t worry about it. We’re cool.

Cib had let everything go last night, but now he was wishing he hadn’t.

“Hey man, what’s up?” James said, sliding up next to Cib with a shit-eating grin on his face. Cib jumped, almost spilling his soda before he turned to James. Seeing how happy his friend was, Cib plastered on a smile and slapped his free hand onto James’ back.

Cib knew the role he had to play, and he played it well.

“James, dude!” Cib said, dragging out the vowels in both words. “Haven’t seen you in ages bro. Like, seventeen, seventy-six years.”

James nodded knowingly, patting Cib on his chest. “Yeah, I mean, fourteen hours can feel like a lifetime when you’re best buds.”

Cib swallowed roughly, looking away from James to stare out at the rest of the room. “Yeah man,” he said, “it sure can.” 

Cib felt James’ eyes boring into him, and he feigned a cough, removing his arm from James’ shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cib saw James straighten up, seemingly preparing himself for something, and Cib turned to his friend once more. “So, uh, speaking of best buds,” James spun around, making a full 360 degree turn and almost tipping over his cup before facing Cib once more, “where’s ol’Steveo at?”

Cib shook his head, trying his best to act casual. “Good question, dude. When I got here he was already gone.” Cib looked down at his shoes. “and he doesn’t really seem to want to talk to me, anyway.”

“Oh,” James said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. “You don’t think it’s because of yesterday, do you? You guys talked it out, right?” James had only heard Cib’s end of the conversation. He had no way of knowing that although Steven and Cib had talked, not much was really said. 

Cib couldn't help but think that their phone call should have been enough. Neither of them held grudges. Steven’s moment of vulnerability to Cib and Cib’s reassurance should have at least moved them from the “anger and avoidance” stage of disagreements to “we can talk in person and work things out”. No, Steven wasn’t angry at Cib, that wasn't how he worked. This was something else.

Suddenly, Cib’s mind flashed back to when Steven and him were still living together, back in their minecraft days. There was a period of a couple months where he and Steven weren’t leaving their apartment, seeing friends, talking to anyone. They were together, in the house, grinding out video after video and living paycheck by paycheck. 

Cib learned to enjoy it. This fast-paced, hardworking environment was something he thrived in. He was pushing out content more than he ever had before, and his skills were improving with each upload. Sure, it sucked not to see friends or to go a while without talking to another person, but he got through. Cib could handle it.

Steven could not handle it.

It was clear to Cib after the first month that Steven was not coping. He was growing thin, ganglier than Steven had ever been. The bags under his eyes dragged unchallenged down his sunken cheeks, leading away from bleary and blank eyes. Not only that, Steven’s content was not improving, instead beginning to lack a certain spark it once had.

Cib didn’t know if it was the isolation or the pressure to create, produce, provide, but something wasn’t right with Steven and Cib didn’t know how to help.

One day, Cib had come home from one of his rare trips to the supermarket, arms full of foods he was hoping Steven could learn to enjoy again. He had dropped them carelessly on the counter before making his way to Steven’s room. Calling out a greeting as he walked down the hallway, Cib heard feet pattering along the carpeted floor of the apartment they shared, and the harsh creak of worn bedsprings. Slowly, Cib made his way to Steven’s doorway, where his words died on his tongue.

Tissues were thrown onto the floor in front of the bed, pushed off haphazardly, nowhere near the garbage can next to the door. Steven was curled up on his bed, which was pushed flatly against the far back wall of the room. He was in the corner by his pillows, one shoulder on each wall. His knees were pulled tightly to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, long and boney and quivering. His head popped up, eyes red-rimmed and staring openly at Cib, the most honest Steven had looked in months. His mouth opened and closed before he finally settled on pressing his lips tightly together as he sniffled.

“Steven…” Cib had said carefully, taking a tentative step into the room.

Steven sniffed, pushing up his glasses with a shaky hand, looking down at his gray comforter. Voice hoarse and broken, he had said, “I’m sorry, Cib-”

“-Cib,” James said in a way that made it clear that this was not his first time calling Cib’s name, waving a hand in front of Cib’s face. Flinching back once again, Cib yelped, almost dropping his cup. “Sorry dude,” James said, not sounding very sorry at all, “you zoned out there for a second.”

Cib ran a hand over his face, hand stopping at his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” Cib said, voice muffled by his palm, “just thinking about something. What’d you say?”

James rolled his eyes, but it seemed like his heart wasn’t completely in it, concern obvious in the furrow of his eyebrows. “I said, ‘do you think Steven is angry at you?’, and then you fucking zoned on me like you were hypnotized or some shit, Cib, what the fuck-”

“No,” Cib said.

James shook his head in disbelief, raising a hand in the air, palm up. “‘No’ what, Cib?”

“No, Steven isn’t mad at me. Not anymore.” Cib took out his phone again, looking at James before turning it on. “This is something different.”

James paused, his mouth open on the edge of a retort that wouldn’t come, eyes squinting until they were almost closed. He crossed his arms, adjusting his stance before continuing, “Something else? Can you be straightforward for once in your life, dude.”

“Oh my god, I’m trying,” Cib said, looking up from his texts back at James. “Here, just… read this. Tell me what you think.” Cib thrust his phone at James’s crossed arms, and James grabbed the phone out of Cib’s hand.

Waiting, Cib rested his entire body weight against the wall, taking a sip of what little was left of his Sprite and grimacing when he realized it had lost most of its carbonation. His leg bounced up and down of its own accord as Cib looked back at James, who seemed to have finished reading the texts if his, “Dude, what the fuck,” was anything to go by.

Cib took his phone back, nodding harshly as he did so. “I know, dude, it’s fucked. Like, what am I supposed to think when he says,” Cib looked back down at the phone, “‘Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.’ Like, I didn’t ask, so the fact that you brought it up is pretty damn weird.”

James shook his head, staring at the wall just beyond Cib’s head. “That’s…fucked. Like, in an actually scary way, man.”

Cib searched James’s face, looking for an answer to a question he wasn’t sure he was asking, but turned up nothing. Sighing, Cib looked down at the floor. “I just don’t know-”

“Dude,” James said, staring at something at the level of Cib’s waist. Cib looked up from the ground at his friend, following James’s line of sight to the phone in his right hand.

The phone was ringing, and Steven’s face was on the screen.

“Fuck,” Cib said, unable to hear the familiar ringtone over the loud music. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Cib’s head spun as he went through a list of places where he could take the call without being interrupted, running his free hand through his hair.

“Outside, dude,” James said, pointing to the front door with one hand and shaking Cib by the bicep with the other. “Go to the hallway, man, I’ll wait by the door in case you need me.”

Cib fumbled out a “thank you” before rushing toward the front door, bumping into several people along the way. By the time he was finally outside, his heart was beating fast in his chest and his cheeks were too warm. He pressed his finger down on the green “accept” button, raising the phone to his ear, out of breath without having done anything to cause it. 

“Steven?” he began, already sure he sounded much too desperate. “Hey, man, you alright?”

Again, he heard the same steady rush of traffic behind Steven, but this time no words came from the other end. Cib heard loud breaths, in-and-out rushes of air that were much too fast for someone who was relaxed. Trying to stay calm, Cib waited another second before speaking again. “Steve, can you… can you tell me where you are? I’ll come pick you up, everybody’s…” Cib paused, cursing himself for stumbling when he was just beginning to understand the stakes here, understand how important all this was, “…everybody’s waiting for you.” 

A sharp inhale came from the other side of the phone, and Cib held his breath in anticipation. “Cib…” Steven began, and Cib’s lungs jumped up into his throat, crushing his windpipe and squeezing him tight. It was the same, Steven’s voice. The same harsh, hoarse, cutting way he had sounded all those years ago in that small house, when it was just the two of them and nothing was going right. Steven’s voice sounded exactly the same, and Cib wanted to cry with him.

“Cib, I don’t know what to do,” Steven said, voice failing him at the end of his sentence and cracking painfully. 

Cib turned the doorknob of Steven’s apartment with his free hand, and found James waiting next to the door with his phone in his hand. James’s head popped up immediately at the sound, and as soon as he saw Cib’s expression, the smile that had begun to form on James’s fell just as quickly as it had began.

“Now, we have to go now, the car,” Cib hissed, moving the speaker of the phone slightly away from his mouth as he did. James didn’t hesitate, gesturing for Cib to lead the way and following close behind as Cib turned and ran down the hallway of the building, phone still in hand.

“What do you mean?” Cib huffed out, turning abruptly to his left and pushing open the door for the stairwell, not bothering to hold it for James. “If you’re having a problem with something, we can all help you, we can fix it.”

The sound of cars rushing by seemed to turn to white noise when Steven spoke. “No,” he pushed out, a sob building. Cib began taking the stairs two at a time. Steven exhaled deeply, calming himself. “No, you can’t help me, because I’m the problem.”

Finally, Cib’s feet hit the ground floor and he slammed his entire body into the exit door, rushing past the front desk and out into the parking lot. “I don’t…” Cib wanted to cry in frustration, the soles of his shoes pounding harshly against the asphalt, a dull sound, nowhere to echo now that they were outside. “I don’t understand.”

Cib finally reached James’s car, stopping by the passenger’s door. A very out-of-breath James appeared, digging for his keys in his pocket. Cib had his eyes closed where he stood, head tilted up to the sky, one hand holding the phone and the other pressing hard against his eyes. James only looked for a second before slamming the key into his car and unlocking the doors. Cib threw himself into the passenger’s seat as James turned the car on. 

Breathing heavily, Cib spoke again. “Steve, come on, talk to me man.” The long silences were unbearable, crushing Cib’s ribs in his chest as he wondered what was happening on the other end of the line.

“It’s just. I just keep fucking things up, you know?” Steven’s breath caught. “I have all of your lives, I guess, basically, in my hands, and all of the decisions I make could just fuck everything up and they do fuck everything up and I don’t know how to make it better-” Steven cut himself off, the sound of the city growing louder on the other end.

Cib leaned back in his seat, staring at the roof of the car but quickly jolted forwards as James prodded at Cib’s arm, speaking softly but with urgency. “I have him on find friends.” Cib stared at the screen of James’s phone, seeing a blue line on a map leading to tiny little dot with Steven’s smiling face on it.

Location: 504 W Colorado Blvd, Pasadena, CA 91105  
Last Updated: Now  
Distance from Current Location: 11 minutes

James pulled his phone away, looking back up at Cib, who nodded his head. “Yes,” Cib mouthed, ears still trained on Steven’s breathing. Seemingly unable to help himself, James spoke.

“That’s the…” he took a breath, “that’s the suicide bridge, man.”

Cib wished desperately that he was surprised.

Covering the phone’s speaker for a second with his hand, Cib looked at James. “Go fast.” James, always quick to act, immediately slammed on the gas, thankful he had decided to back into his spot earlier tonight.

Cib moved the phone back up to his ear, noticing a slight change in sound. The cars sounded slightly farther away, and the wind was more powerful, audible now over the sound of the traffic. Steven was on the ledge. 

Cib’s empty hand clenched into a tight fist as he spoke. “Steve? You still there man?” The silence hurt as Cib waited, nails leaving indents in his skin.

“...Yeah,” Steve said, voice the same volume as before, but beginning to sound farther and farther away.

“Okay, good, good,” Cib said, finding himself able to catch his breath for a short moment. “Please don’t go anywhere, okay? Please?” Begging was never Cib’s strong suit, but he’d do what he had to do to make Steven stay on the fucking ground.

No one spoke for a moment, and then a bitter laugh ran chills up Cib’s spine. “I can’t promise that,” Steven said, defeated. “You know I can’t promise that.”

The edges of Cib’s vision blurred and he blinked it away, watching through the dash as James broke several traffic laws, swerving and running reds. ‘Eleven minutes,’ Cib thought, eyes no longer focusing on one particular thing and instead letting all of the colors and lights blur together. ‘Maybe ten, if James keeps it up’. 

“Okay,” Cib said, “okay. You don’t have to promise anything.” Mind racing, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I just want to let you know a few things. Is it alright if I talk for a second?”

Steven’s reply came a bit late, but in a way that suggested he had simply forgotten Cib couldn’t see him nod through the phone. “Sure.” Steven inhaled shakily.”For a second.”

Tears once again creeping into Cib’s eyes, he swallowed down his nerves. He had to be tough, now. This was it.. “I know you think, right now, that everything is your fault,” Cib started, voice wavering, “and I know stuff like that can be hard to shake. I get it. But, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. You might be the…” Cib threw his hand up, despite knowing Steven couldn't see him, “‘big-boss-man’, but this is on all of us. And sure, we’re more than a little in debt right now, but we’re doing shit we’ve always wanted to do.

“I mean, remember when it was just us? Every day, just us and fucking computers and nothing that meant anything. Our jobs were ruining us, dude. It was fucked. But now,” Cib struggled not to sound choked up, “now we have this… this crazy, beautiful shit storm of a company, and it’s not all on you to make it great. Our losses are our losses, and our wins are our wins. You aren’t alone in this. I mean…,” voicing what he’d always known, since they first met at that house party all those years ago, Cib continued, “I would die for you, man.” Cib whispered it so quietly he wasn’t sure if he had said it until he heard Steven bite back a sob. 

“You,” Cib continued, in a way that would have come off as accusing if Steven didn’t know him so well, “are the best fucking friend I have ever had. Losing you? Would ruin me. It would ruin all of us. All of these problems… money, the show, all our personal shit, it’s temporary. But us? Cib and Steven? That shit is forever man.” 

Cib took a shaky breath, recentering himself. “If you want it to be. You have to want it to be. I can’t make you want that, but I sure as fuck can try.”

For the first time an interrupted sob broke its way through from Steven’s end of the phone, full and real. Cib sat still in his seat, listening to Steven break down. “Hey, hey,” he said, once he came to his senses, “it’s alright, okay, we can work it out together, I promise. Are you still…” Cib squeezed his eyes shut. “Are you still on the ledge?”

The scuffle of shoes on concrete sounded through the phone, so quiet that Cib would have missed it had he not been expecting the noise. “No,” Steven said, voice sounding more tired than Cib had ever heard it.

Cib looked over at the other man in the car for the first time in what felt like centuries. James looked like he’d just been spared from the electric chair, managing to piece together what was going on from just Cib’s end of the call. He gave a relieved smile to Cib, whispering, “We’re two minutes away.”

Cib tried to smile, but his face felt frozen, so he turned away and focused his full attention back onto Steven. “Great, that’s great, we’ll be there in two, okay? Just stay where you are and stay on the line.”

The next two minutes flew by in a blur of reassurances and mindless distractions until James pulled to a short stop on the side of the road by the bridge, parking illegally along in shoulder. Cib flew out of the car, running along the side of the bridge so fast that the pain of his feet impacting the ground resonated up through his knees to his chest. Behind him, Cib heard a man begin shouting at James about being parked in the wrong spot. Normally he would have helped, but he had to see Steven. He had to.

Cib sprinted until he made it over the tallest point of the bridge, and a huddled up figure became visible under the artificial light of the streetlamps. He continued running until he was just feet away from Steven, slowing to an even jog. “Steve,” he breathed out. Once again, Steven was curled in on himself, leaning against the cold concrete of the bridge. His knees were up and arms wrapped tightly around them, staring up at Cib teary-eyed once more. There was a hint of a smile on his red face, wrecked from crying and the harsh wind.

Lowering himself down next to his friend, Cib pressed his left side hard against Steven’s right. Steven was cold, even through Cib’s sweatshirt he could tell. Thinking about where Steven had been just a few minutes ago, why the wind froze him the way it had, Cib couldn’t help but let his tears finally fall, relief overpowering any other emotion he was feeling. The soft look Steven’s face slowly melted into horror, and he raised a hand to Cib’s face, brushing away the tears with a gentle thumb. “I’m sorry, Cib-”

“No,” Cib said firmly, voice still clear despite his sniffling. Steven pulled his hand back, startled, and Cib immediately felt guilty, placing his hand on one of Steven’s knees in a silent sign of reassurance. “Don’t be sorry. I should’ve known. I mean, after last time, and with all the pressure of the company now… I should’ve known.” 

The tears threatened to seep back out onto his cheeks, and when he looked at Steven, he seemed to be having a similar issue. “This,” Steven said, unwrapping the arm still circling his knees in order to gesture to the bridge around them, “is my fault. But,” he looked away from Cib’s face, staring at where Cib’s hand still rested on Steven’s knee, “I’m going to get better this time. I will. I promise.” 

Steven’s eyes met Cib’s once more, both watery. “I love you man,” Steven choked out. Cib’s breath caught in his throat.

Without him making the decision to do so, Cib wrapped his arms around Steven, nudging his chin into the crook of Steven’s neck. Steven, shocked for a moment, didn’t move at first, lifting his arms up and tightening them around Cib’s torso. Taking a deep breath, Cib inhaled the smell of peppermint and cologne that seemed to follow Steven wherever he went, sharp but familiar. “Love you too, dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter: @marigoldtears  
> my extremely inactive Tumblr: @marigoldtears


End file.
